Stolen in Stars
by rscoil
Summary: The Space Pirate AU


I'd like to offer thanks to Valkier Kato for the idea that inspired this one and his enthusiasm for the story.

* * *

Erik was sprinting down an endless hallway, screaming at the top of his lungs for everyone to get to an escape pod. None of the crew acted as if they'd heard him. Everyone kept working as they did every other day.

Again and again, he yelled warnings and it made no difference. He was back in the hallway and running fast. Then there was a flash of blue, and he jolted awake.

He was panting as though he really had been running those corridors. His pulse raced and a cold sweat covered his remaining skin. His limbs ached where flesh met the unwieldy metal replacements. The technology was good, yes, but not as good as the original.

A distress signal blinked on the monitor beside him. Code 3: Warp Core Breach. One hour to evacuate.

By the time he was fully alert, the ship in question had fifty minutes left. He could see it through the viewpane. Fifty minutes and the ship would be nothing but wreckage.

Automatic distress signals only happened if there were still lifeforms on board. Fifty minutes, and he was the only one close enough to help.

Blue light flared in his memory. He was back in the moment of the accident. The pain ripped through his body, even as the force of the blast shoved him into the escape pod.

No. He had to focus. He had failed to save most of his crew. He had let them down. He would not let this crew suffer the same fate.

Forty-five minutes left. Every self-preservation instinct screamed at him to stop as he adjusted course for the ship. He shoved them aside.

Forty minutes. He was connected to their dock and climbing aboard the other vessel. There was no one in sight.

Thirty minutes. A knot grew in his stomach as he ran up the main hall. Every escape bay he passed was empty, but the distress call was still blaring. Three lifeforms on board, including him.

Twenty-five minutes. He would have to turn around soon.

Twenty minutes and he was heading back to his ship.

Fifteen minutes and his heart was racing.

Ten minutes and the alert changed. One lifeform on board. He entered his bay to see the doors to his vessel closing. It was only by the grace of his bionic legs that he made it through the closing gap.

He staggered to the console room, dimly aware of a woman pressed against the far wall. A man sat in the captain's chair. His chair.

"Move." His tone left no room for argument.

The man practically jumped out of his skin. At the very least, he jumped out of the chair.

Erik slid into position and the controls came to life. Five minutes.

They were out of the bay thirty seconds later, flying in hyperdrive. Erik chose a direction at random, putting as much distance as possible between his ship and the imminent blast.

Three minutes and they were still too close for comfort.

Two minutes and his hand was white-knuckled on the controls.

One minute and he thought they might make it.

The blast shook the ship. Blue light filled his vision, but there was no pain. The shields on his ship were performing beautifully.

Then, it was over. The system reported no signs of damage.

Erik sat back and released the breath he'd been holding. He looked up at the intruders.

"So, which of you would like to explain why you were attempting to steal my ship?"

The man ran a nervous hand through his hair. "Sorry, man. We weren't trying to steal it. Just trying to survive."

"I don't believe that," Erik said cooly. "If you wanted to be rescued, you would have followed the standard evac procedure. Escape vessel, or, failing that, make your way to the main trunk of your ship. I went up the main trunk. You weren't there."

"You must have missed us," the man said lamely.

Erik's voice was like ice. "No, I didn't. Your ship was mostly disused, yet all of the escape pods were missing. Why?"

"We got it at a junkyard and never got around to replacing the pods."

"You are a horrible liar." Erik glanced at the display in front of him. "That ship was reported missing six months ago. The crew reported being attacked by pirates." He looked between the two of them. "I'd assume that was you. Since there are only two of you, I'm guessing no one bothered with warp core maintenance. Now, you don't have a ship. Congratulations."

"Good work, detective," the man sneered. "It's a pity you won't live to tell that story." He pulled a blaster from the holster on his hip.

Erik stared down the barrel of the weapon. "Am I supposed to feel threatened?"

The blast ricocheted off of his mask and Erik swiveled to face his attacker. "Are you quite finished? Put that thing down before you hurt yourself."

The man stared in disbelief. "What are you?"

"I am the thing keeping you alive. I suggest you show some respect."

The woman spoke for the first time. "Does that mean the ship is biolocked?"

"It is. The engines will not run if my heart stops beating. Kill me, and you die too."

* * *

"Sir?" The woman peered around the corner of the console room doorway.

"Yes?" Erik looked up from the composition in front of him. He'd assumed they were both asleep in the spare room.

"I wanted to say thank you. You saved my life."

"You are welcome. What is your name?"

"Christine Daae."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Christine. You may call me Erik." He sighed. "Tell me, Christine, how did you end up with that sack of potatoes?"

"You mean Raoul?"

"If that's his name, then yes. He seems like a real idiot."

"He is an idiot, but a powerful one. And I didn't choose to be with him. Planet rules. Pairing by birth. You get what you get."

"It's a big universe. You could get away."

She shook her head. "He'd find me. He can be rather controlling. This is the first conversation I've had with someone apart from him in two years."

"I'll do you one better. This is the first conversation I've had at all in five years."

"Really? Is there anything you'd like to talk about?"

"Well, that depends. Do you like music?"

* * *

"Erik, are you awake?" Christine's voice whispered in the darkness.

"I am. Do you need something?"

"No, I just wanted to talk. Raoul's asleep."

"I can't imagine why you'd want to talk to him, anyhow. I was wrong about him being a sack of potatoes. A sack of potatoes would hold a better conversation."

She stepped into the room he used as an office and composing studio. Sheaves of handwritten sheet music lined the walls. She whistled. "Is all this yours?"

He shrugged. "There's not much else to do out here."

Her eyes lit up. "Is that a violin case? Do you play?"

"Once upon a time, I did." His voice was bitter.

"But not anymore? Why?"

"My replacement arm lacks the dexterity."

Her brow furrowed. "You have a pros limb?"

"Three, actually, as well as the side of my head. I don't wear a helmet and mask as a fashion statement."

"So that's why Raoul's blaster didn't kill you. It just hit metal."

He nodded. "My head's been ringing ever since, but it was worth it for the look on his face."

"That was pretty great." She grinned at him. "My dad makes pros limbs for a living. I know a lot about them. Do you want me to take a look at your arm?"

Erik removed his jacket and gloves. The remaining tank top did little to stop him from feeling exposed.

"You can ditch the helmet ensemble, too, if you like."

"It's more for stabilization than vanity." He removed it gingerly.

She studied his face and the extensive bruising where metal met skin. "Raoul's blast hurt you more than you let on, didn't it?"

He shrugged. "I've been in pain for six years. It's nothing new. I assume you'll need to do some prodding?"

She nodded and brought her fingers to the metal plate that consumed two thirds of his face. "What did they do to you?"

"There was an accident and they had to work fast. I assume they improvised."

"Can I please see your scans, if you have them?"

She flipped through the proffered file, pausing when she saw the archived pictures. His face, young and whole, stared back at her. On the next page, it was burnt nearly beyond recognition, a chunk missing where the plate now sat.

"You're lucky to be alive."

"Lucky. Right." He dropped his head to his hands. "I lost eighty crew members that day."

She looked at him with sudden interest. "You're the Phantom Captain, aren't you? Your ship was the _Obsidian_."

He nodded. "There was a plasma core malfunction like the one on your ship. Normally, we would have evacuated and everything would have been fine. But we were invaded by pirates in the meantime." He drew in a shaky breath. "I tried, Christine, but I couldn't save them."

"How did you survive?"

"I thought I would go down with the ship. I remember the blast coming, and the next thing I knew, I was alone in an escape pod. The shockwave must have shoved me inside. I don't remember a lot of what happened next. I was in and out of consciousness, and every time I woke up, the pain was indescribable. The pod got me to the nearest hospital and they took it from there. Eventually, I woke up like this." He gestured to the metal limbs.

"Well, no offense, but all they did was mangle you a different way. Is any of this comfortable?"

He shook his head. "I have no sensation feedback. No hot, no cold, no touch. Only motion. I hear that they can do sensation stuff now?"

"We've done it successfully." She ran a finger across the bruises. "How about in the transition spots?"

"They're painful all the time. I can tune it out, to a degree, but it's never pleasant."

"And the weight?"

"They're heavy. It's less pronounced with my legs because they're both fake, but the metal arm always feels heavier than the real one."

"That's because all these limbs are way too big for your bone structure, for one. The facial piece is massive compared to the rest of your skull, but I'm sure you already know that. A properly fitted pros shouldn't need external stabilization."

"Do you think it could be fixed?"

She bit her lip. "Potentially. It would depend on you, really. The existing ones would need to be removed and the new ones installed. There are a lot of nerve endings to contend with. Even with meds, it would be painful."

"I've had worse, I'm sure. If there's a chance that I might heal without pain, then it's worth it."

She nodded and scribbled something on a sheet of paper. "Here are the coordinates for my dad's shop. Tell him I sent you and he'll hook you up. And give him my love."

"Do you want to come, too?"

She shook her head. "I can't. Raoul and my father don't get along. He comes from a very influential family that Dad's never agreed with. I don't have much choice." She grimaced. "I'm stuck with Raoul."

"Would you rather be with your father?"

"In a heartbeat," Christine sighed. "Music and mechanics, that's all I want from life."

He offered a sad smile. "May you find an opportunity for both."

* * *

The docking bay doors slid open.

"Get off my ship." Erik's voice was cold.

Arrogance dripped from Raoul's voice. "I don't think I will. I've rather enjoyed having a chauffeur for the past few weeks. I think it's time you joined our merry band permanently."

"Oh, I don't think you will be traveling much of anywhere for a long time," said an unfamiliar voice. The second set of bay doors opened and a man entered.

"You're late, Daroga."

"This is the thanks I get for making a special trip?"

"Come, Daroga. I am delivering an intergalactic fugitive. You could at least be punctual."

"What?" All color drained from Raoul's face.

"The daroga is the chief of police for the planet Maz, but he also has intergalactic jurisdiction." Erik smirked behind the mask. "The time of reckoning is upon you."

Raoul looked around frantically. "If they take me, they'll have to take Christine, too. I've seen the way you look at her. You mean to tell me that you're going to let her rot in prison?"

"Why would Christine go to prison? She's done nothing wrong," the daroga said nonchalantly.

Raoul seemed to realize that anything he said about Christine's involvement would only make his own situation worse. He turned to her. "You're not even going to vouch for me?"

Her voice was tired. "Raoul, I'm sick of this whole thing. I just want to go home."

An older man stepped out of the bay. "I believe I can help with that."

"Dad!" Christine shrieked as she ran to him. She threw her arms around him. "I thought I'd never see you again." Her voice cracked with the beginnings of tears.

"Don't worry, Lotte. I'm here. He can't hurt you anymore."

"But the council-"

"The council's decisions are nullified if either party is charged with a crime." He shifted his attention to Raoul. "You're on the wrong side of some very powerful people. Your brother can't weasel you out of this one."

"We'll see about that, old man."

"Yes. We'll be seeing you in prison." The daroga guided Raoul off the ship.

"Dad, I'd like you to meet Erik," Christine tugged her father forward. "He's the man who saved my life."

The two men clasped hands. "Your friend has told me a lot about you. I understand that you've had some pros work done. I'd be fascinated to take a look sometime."

"Dad, wait until you see it. What they did to him is a travesty. I already have some sketches and ideas on how to improve the design."

The daroga returned from securing Raoul in his ship. "I'll be off, then. Erik, I trust you can get the Daaes home?"

Erik nodded. "It's not far. Thank you, Daroga."

* * *

It had been an hour since he woke up from the final surgery, and, despite the bandages, his head already felt lighter. Sore as the edges of the appendage were, it already felt ten times better than the old metal piece ever had.

Christine pulled him from the accelerated healing chamber and spent ten minutes stretching the synthetic covering into place. It had to be perfect in her eyes.

The Daaes truly were wizards, masters of their craft. The new pros limbs were light years ahead of the clumsy metal he'd been given before. The process was extensive, but worth it to finally have a body without pain.

Every detail was precise, from the hair on his legs to the birthmark he remembered on his right wrist. Fingers as long and elegant as his natural ones replaced the clunky, sausage-like digits he'd been living with. Careful analysis of the old violinist's motions had been incorporated into his new joints. He cried when he successfully set bow to strings for the first time in years.

The face had taken the longest to design. Christine must have sculpted and scanned his face a hundred times, looking between the photograph of his original face and the wreckage of the metal one. When she announced it was ready, his heart had skipped a beat.

"Okay, you can look." Christine handed him the mirror with a grin.

The face in the mirror was not quite how he remembered it. Older, wiser, perhaps a little jaded, but it was his face nonetheless. A new glass eye, the twin of his own, sat in place of the robotic diode. There was no bruising around the edges, no uncomfortable pull as he flexed the synthetic muscles. It was a face like any other, a whole face.

For the first time in seven years, Erik felt human.


End file.
